


Overcoming Fear

by Zaya_Ayame



Series: Shadow Weaver Being a Ho [2]
Category: She-Ra and the Princesses of Power (2018)
Genre: Asphyxiation, Astraphobia, Bratty Bottom Castaspella, Cunnilingus, Dom/sub, Drama & Romance, Edgeplay, F/F, Fluff and Smut, For the Love of Shadow Weaver, Lesbian Sex, Light Bondage, Porn With Plot, Porn with Feelings, Praise Kink, Safe Sane and Consensual, Safeword is Micah, Sensory Deprivation, The recliner chair is so underutilized so I had to fix that, Top Shadow Weaver, mention of Nyctophobia
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-22
Updated: 2020-11-22
Packaged: 2021-03-10 05:42:40
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,185
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27668387
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Zaya_Ayame/pseuds/Zaya_Ayame
Summary: Castaspella struggled with a new phobia she didn't realize she had while staying in Bright Moon, thankfully Shadow Weaver is here to help with a distraction.
Relationships: Castaspella/Shadow Weaver | Light Spinner (She-Ra)
Series: Shadow Weaver Being a Ho [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1946182
Comments: 13
Kudos: 57





	Overcoming Fear

Castaspella would never boast of her fears and for good reason. Being the Head of Mystacor, even hinting at weakness could invite chaos and calamity for anyone that wanted to weaken the magical kingdom! However, be it a blessing or a curse, Mystacor was quite secure…

Most of the time. 

Occasionally, Castaspella would worry about the twisting darkness that would catch out of the corner of her eye before disappearing when she focused on it. Whispers in the dead of night when it was far too silent for comfort had her nestle into bed with a tremor of anxiety. Rationally, she had magic at her fingertips and she was GOOD at it… but one never could forget those childish fears. Not completely. 

Worse, just as she was certain she’d gotten over her fear of the dark while visiting Bright Moon, there was a new phobia that made itself known one dark evening as a storm rolled in. Relatively speaking, it was quite harmless and most of the inhabitants of the castle were unbothered by the storm. 

Except Castaspella. 

Late into the evening, whilst most were asleep, the storm was at its strongest - the crackle of thunder rolling through the halls as flashes of lightning illuminated the darkest corners of the room. She was trying to get sleep, honest, but just as she felt the drowsiness of rest come to her - a loud crack of thunder would jolt her awake and paralyze her with fear. 

Within moments, Castaspella was dressed in a thick grown and traveling down the halls. She’d intended to sneak into the kitchen and grab something to eat. Anything to distract her from the sights and sound of the storm. 

However, just as she was passing by the guarded door of Shadow Weaver’s ‘prison cell’ - Castaspella let loose a sudden shriek of terror as a powerful rolling thunder had the ground beneath her feet tremble. Trembling with fear, and embarrassed as the two guards looked at her with amusement, Castaspella would bark insolently, “Aside! I’m here to check on the prisoner!” 

The guards immediately sobered up from their grins and looked to each other with uncertain looks. 

Their orders were clear; none but Angella and Castaspella could approach the prisoner, but… for what reason would Castaspella need to check on Shadow Weaver? 

“Well?!” She questioned loudly, arms crossed and imposing in spite of her hair down and wearing none of her Head Sorceress vestments. Grudgingly, the guards allowed her to pass and Castaspella, practically strutting, disappeared into the dimly lit room of Shadow Weaver’s cell. 

It was only when the door had shut right behind her a handful of steps in that Castaspella started to realize how foolish she was being. Sitting in the chair that was offered to Shadow Weaver throughout the night, the sorceress seemed to have been occupied by a book that she was _fairly certain_ she didn’t give to her. 

“What’s this? A midnight check-up on me because of the storm?” Shadow Weaver’s voice carried, followed by an amused chuckle. It elicited a frown from the sorceress as she pulled her robe around her with petulance. 

“You _would_ have a snide remark waiting, wouldn’t you?” 

“Temper, temper,” Shadow Weaver teased, cocking her head to one side, “I am only curious. Wouldn’t you be if you noticed someone… scared of a little thunder?” 

Castaspella paled at that and forced herself to keep her voice down as she stomped up to the circle, pointing a finger just inches from the perimeter, “You heard nothing! Don’t make assumptions about me!”

“There’s nothing _wrong_ with a healthy fear-”

“UGH! Just-!”

**KRAK-OOOOOM!**

Another shriek, barely muffled by the roar of the thunder, had Castaspella practically fall over herself as she ran toward the bed. Violently trembling, the sorceress was barely holding herself standing as she strained while hunched over the bed. 

As amused and utterly fascinated as Shadow Weaver was by this new information about the Head Sorceress, she could feel a familiar memory pull from the forefront of her memory… one that was years ago from before she’d met even Micah. It was a fleeting endeavor from the days when magic was still new and unknown and she was as young and ungraceful as Castaspella was now. 

Plumerian, beautiful and spry - she and this fleeting fling of a woman lasted all but a season before they both found themselves drifting apart… one seeking higher power… and the other a family. It was on a night just like this one, a powerful storm waylaying Mystacor in a rare high-elevation super cell that Light Spinner and this woman had stayed sheltered in her room. Light Spinner was hardly affected, the draw of the dangerous unknown still attractive and comforting where as the other was quite petrified. 

In a moment of clarity and tenderness, Light Spinner had suggested a distraction of a kind and, smitten in their youth, her companion had expressed interest. 

That night, spurned on by the storm, neither had any issue with being heard as they enjoyed a bout of rebelliousness.

Shadow Weaver eyed Castaspella with a keen, conspiring eye, recalling their previous tryst in Mystacor with a less corporeal version of herself, and wondered- 

_Perhaps we can both benefit from a… distraction._

And so the plot thickened.

She laid on the honey, “What’s the matter, Casta?” She sat up straighter, leaning forward just a bit to appear to try and get a better look at the sorceress. 

Castaspella, for all her frazzled nerves, just glared at Shadow Weaver from beneath her disheveled hair, “Don’t… even start that,” She snarled, the vision of her aggression and frayed form prompting an almost visceral reaction from Shadow Weaver.

_Was she always so appealingly attractive when angry?_

“What? Being concerned for you?” She attempted once more, testing the waters. She rather liked that sensation, but wanted to go for something a little more dark. “You all seem to believe that I am without care, but I assure you that you couldn’t be further from the truth.”

Gathering her wits about her, Castaspella managed to cease her trembling to stand, “Like I’d ever believe a word out of your mouth. You just toy with and twist people to your own selfish wim!” 

“Did you feel that way in Mystacor?”

“Don’t-!” Castaspella hissed, a flush of red blooming across her face at the memory. “Don’t bring that up. Never bring that up!” 

“Too afraid to answer, then?” Shadow Weaver continued, standing in her space fluidly and steepling her hands. “Not surprising. You’ve always been afraid. Not like Micah; always bounding ahead-” She stopped, knowing the painful barb of her words and watched as Castaspella nearly bounded at her in a fury.

“How dare you bring him into-!” 

Another powerful roll of thunder, followed by frightening flashes of lightning just as she was stepping toward Shadow Weaver had Castaspella’s body react with rigid fear - tensing mid-step and falling clear into the realm of the circle and against Shadow Weaver. Wracked with terror, eyes shut tightly, Castaspella found herself unable to prevent the reflexive compulsion to cling to something nearby. 

Which, in this case, was Shadow Weaver - left staring in shocked silence at the violently trembling form with arms wrapped tightly around her midsection. Frozen with her arms up and away out of uncertainty, the sorceress hesitantly brought her arms down to smooth palms against Castaspella’s shoulders. 

“Calm down. You’re fine,” She spoke softly, ignoring the buzz under her skin as she soaked in the unwitting embrace like a dry sponge in water. Soothingly, she rubbed her shoulder blades. “Does this look like I’m going to hurt you?... Hm?”

Through the struggle of forcing her limbs to relax, Castaspella bit through clenched teeth, “Stop… talking…” She was going to pull away the _moment_ she had control over herself again and forget all about the weird butterflies in her stomach and how nice it felt to hold someone. Infuriatingly, she remembered the calm and comforting caress of shadows that helped to ease her fear of the dark and hated that it was Shadow Weaver whom was responsible. 

Said sorceress refused to relent, leaning back to ease into her small chair and take the woman with her, “Enough. You’re a shaking, pitiful mess, Casta,” Switching gears from honey to tough love wasn’t difficult for her - a tactic used commonly among the more rambunctious cadets that needed a firmer hand. “A distraction will help.” 

Castaspella swallowed, knees on the floor as she forced her head up to glare up at Shadow Weaver, “What _kind_ of a distraction?”

“Truthfully, as I promised Adora I would be… sexual.” 

“UGH!” Already, Castaspella wanted to pull away and just leave the room to escape the ridiculousness of the randy sorceress. Etheria would freeze over before she would EVER admit to feeling enticed by the idea! When she attempted to do just that, another low but gradually building roll of thunder began and as it grew louder and more terrifying, Shadow Weaver was quick to respond to the predictable reaction. 

As Castaspella nearly bound back into Shadow Weaver’s lap, the pair of arms at her shoulders would pull her forward. Tightly, as their bodies were pressed together, Castaspella would have her arms wound completely around Shadow Weaver’s upper midsection - head pressed into the crook of her neck while Shadow had her own arms tightly around Castaspella’s shoulders and neck - her chin jutting beyond Castaspella’s head as she calmly held her. 

Gradually, the sound faded and petered off back into the loud patter of rain against the windows but Shadow Weaver held Castaspella tightly still. She could feel the flutter of Castaspella’s heartbeat against her own, impressed that she hadn’t passed out from fear just by how fast it was beating alone. 

Encouraged, Shadow Weaver brought one hand up to smooth it against the back of the sorceress’ neck and run her sharp nails gently through her hair, “I’ve got you. Listen to my voice,” She rumbled, speaking soft but firmly as the thunder forced smaller tremors through the floor. She wasn’t going to waste a second of this. “You’re going to relax. I’m going to help you. Just let me lead and you won’t be afraid anymore. Do you understand?”

Within her arms, helpless to the siren that was Shadow Weaver’s soothing tone and enrapturing smoothness, Castaspella didn’t trust herself to speak and just pressed herself firmly against Shadow Weaver - biting her bottom lip as the sensation of her head being massaged and hair combed through sent warm shocks down her spine. 

Thankfully, Shadow Weaver didn’t need more encouragement than that and raised her other hand from around Castaspella. Carefully, she reached for the red collar of her scarf and tugged it free - the cloth unravelling around her neck to expose the expanse of her throat. 

Comfortingly, she allowed a few more moments of running her hands through the dark tresses of Castaspella’s hair before gently tapping the top of her head and commanding, “Raise your head for me.” 

Raising her head before realizing too late that she’d just obeyed without thinking, Castaspella had a derisive remark on her tongue before noticing that Shadow Weaver held a cloth in hand that she didn’t before. Then she noticed the lack of cover over her neck, “What are you-?” She started in confusion just before Shadow Weaver interrupted. 

“I will only say this once, Casta,” And the tenderness that followed Castaspella would remember for the rest of her life. _”Trust me.”_ Left to stare in shock and surprise, Castaspella’s eyes would rapidly move between the cloth in her hand and Shadow Weaver’s face before tightening her jaw with a resolve she didn’t realize she had. 

_Please don’t make me regret this,_ Castaspella begged silently before closing her eyes. Taking the cue, Shadow Weaver gently eased the cloth around her head, taking care to make certain it didn’t restrict her hair or feel too tight. When it was settled smoothly around her head, Shadow Weaver tested the sensitivity of the lost sense. 

With a soft ‘click’, Shadow Weaver noted the sharp gasp from the woman in her lap and grinned knowingly. “I’m taking off my mask,” She announced, watching the manner in which Castaspella swallowed thickly and licked her lips. 

She knew what was coming and… dare she assume - Anticipated it?  
Had she already incited a Pavlovian response?  
After just one encounter in the dark of Mystacor?

Shadow Weaver could feel heat rush through her body as she savored the control. The trust. The dark surrender of this woman that entranced her in her own unspoken (and shall remain so!) way. 

Casting away her mask to settle it against the floor, Shadow Weaver leaned into an exposed ear - passing breath over the skin, “Listen carefully. When you hear the sound of thunder… do not be afraid. I will distract you. Should you desire to stop-” _Which I hope you won’t._ “-speak Micah’s name. I will, for certain, know that you will not wish to continue.” 

“Despicable,” Castaspella hissed, hating that her brother’s name was being spoken by this bastardly woman but grateful that it was at least invoked with the decency of her well-being in mind - however twisted.

“Not yet,” Shadow Weaver cooed, still grinning as she held a dark promise within her words, “-but soon…” And Castaspella bit her lip again at the warmth of breath against her ear. 

Within seconds, Shadow Weaver was at work and Castaspella had a sneaking suspicion that she had a goal in mind. However, almost immediately, all thoughts of logic and critical thinking went out the window as she felt the wet warmth of lips and tongue against the side of her neck. Immediately, strangled gasps at the oversensitivity of her skin were torn from her throat, but Shadow Weaver pressed on. 

Slowly, but with a hunger that belied the addiction to touching another, Shadow Weaver smoothed wet kisses along the expanse of Castaspella’s skin down to the junction between her shoulder and neck - stopping just a few seconds to blow cool air against her and take cruel delight in the audible responses she received. 

The hands that were around her midsection tightened, fisting into her robe with such force that reminded her that she still had her own hands that could wreak havoc upon the sensitive sorceress. 

However, just as she had such a realization, the time to make good on her promise came as Shadow Weaver felt another rumble of thunder begin to roll in. Just as Castaspella tensed up, Shadow Weaver leaned back and pressed her lips firmly against Castaspella’s - inadvertently swallowing a frightened whimper that sent a wave of arousal straight down to her core. 

Her fear was like opium to Shadow Weaver.

Their kiss, sudden and shocking and spur of the moment for Castaspella, quickly transitioned into a heated crush of lips and tongue - at one point eliciting a ragged gasp as a sharp canine of Shadow Weaver’s caught on a lower lip and nicked it painfully. However, with the warmth through her body rushing straight into the pit of her belly, Castaspella didn’t hardly care for the little rivulet of blood that was smeared along her lips. 

Shadow Weaver, on the other hand, was battling with the possible realization that she might - in fact - be some kind of vampire of old. The sweet taste of the blood that tingled with her taste buds was nearly overwhelming and had started to growl low in the back of her throat at just how aroused she was. 

Roughly, she brought a hand up through Castaspella’s hair - being careful not to hurt her too badly - and pulled her head back away from her, parting their lips as she did so and breathing heavily against her, “Such a good girl… do you see?” She licked her lips, regaining a modicum of composure to not lose herself just yet. “-Not so scary when you’re distracted.” 

Parted from Shadow Weaver, but still struggling with the delicious sting of her hair being pulled, Castaspella could only breathe in what air she could get and bite out, “Wh-... Where did you learn to… to do this??” 

Shadow Weaver chuckled, moving her head to the tender skin just below Castaspella’s ear and giving it a teasing nip before finishing, “I can’t give all my secrets away, Dearest. **But** ,” She enunciated, pulling back and bringing her other hand up to tap oh-so-softly against an invitingly plump bottom lip. “-you’ll have a rather… _intimate_ educational experience.” 

And for just a moment, unhindered by her mask and allowing herself just a moment to stare undeterred… Shadow Weaver appreciated the flushing red beauty that was the Head Sorceress. Truly, she had to wonder if _she_ was the one bewitched… 

As the moment passed however, so too did the white-noise of the rain as Shadow Weaver felt another rumble begin to vibrate through the floor. 

There was quite a job ahead of her.

…  
..  
.

Whether it was several minutes or even an hour, Shadow Weaver had to admit that she was impressed. Not just at the longevity of the storm but, more appealingly, how long Castaspella herself could hold out. Shadow Weaver wasn’t going to deny having an ulterior motive to their little truce, but if you had asked her what she expected to do while imprisoned at Bright Moon - 

-she wouldn’t have answered with eating someone out. 

And yet, their positions switched as she bore up at a very naked and enticing Castaspella, Shadow Weaver was doing just that and didn’t mind being on her knees that second time around in this ‘prison’. 

She was also impressed with how fast she’d managed to convince Castaspella to go so far, though Shadow Weaver wasn’t quite sure how much time had passed in truth. Between her lack of self-control and Castaspella’s newfound amendability - it was hardly a wonder how they’d wound up in such a lewd sexual situation. Still…

She wasn’t complaining. 

Offering up her recliner for the floor, Shadow Weaver’s hands were a ballast for the sorceress above her - one holding her hips down firmly while the other was hooked under a knee and keeping her legs open to her tongue and lips. Bruises and bite-mark shaped indentations were visible along Castaspella’s inner thighs, evidence of Shadow Weaver’s sadistic tease. Further up… little more of the same with pink hickeys, red-lined welts from dangerous claws and a rather cute-looking bite-mark over a reddening and puckered nipple. 

All a part of Shadow Weaver’s ‘distracting’ diversions as thunder had run through the castle. 

By this point, having divested herself of the sweltering nightgown and given her full trust to the woman that helped overcome her fear _again_ , Castaspella was a gasping, moaning mess that barely managed to stifle an ecstasy-laced cry by covering her mouth with a hand. 

Shadow Weaver didn’t mind; considering it a challenge, in fact. 

“U-Ugn!” Castaspella gasped brokenly, chest heaving as she felt another orgasm crest from the rapid flutter of Shadow Weaver’s tongue against her clit. Her hips stuttered, threatening to raise from the seat but the dark sorceress was firm with her hold over her pelvis and narrowed her eyes as a wicked thought passed. 

Just as she was sure the best part of the rushing climax was breaking, Shadow Weaver pulled away - taking sadistic glee in the agonized groan that followed suit. Just as she was sure Castaspella had some colorful words prepared for her, her tongue was upon her again and edging Castaspella right back up to that cresting wave of pleasure. 

...only to stop short again… and again. 

By the time Shadow Weaver was satisfied that Castaspella was thoroughly edged to the point of near-pain, she could see that her partner was struggling not to openly sob in front of her and the more experienced woman took this moment to reward Castaspella for her patience and perseverance. 

Pulling back a final time to savor the taste, Shadow Weaver gave a decadent lick of her lips before moving her hand from her secure hold on her hip and hooked it similarly under the knee instead. With this change of position, Castaspella was briefly aware of the anticipation of something different before her cunt was attacked with deadly precision - knees thrown over her shoulders as her legs curled in to lock Shadow Weaver between her thighs. 

Shakily, Castaspella moved her hands from her face and the vice-like grip of the chair to lace and push into Shadow Weaver’s hair, her back arching and head thrown back. She could feel her body tightening like a draw-string, ready to let loose like an arrow as Shadow Weaver focused all her attention on the heat between her legs. Gasps and cries, keening like she was on fire, were released unfettered and the rumble of another loud and vicious roll of thunder fought over her volume as Shadow Weaver sucked mercilessly at her clit. 

Castaspella didn’t even hear the thunder this time, the beating of her own heart too loud in her ears as she orgasmed. 

Shaking and shivering in the aftermath, Castaspella was only vaguely aware of Shadow Weaver bringing her down from her high with light, laving licks to her cunt before easing back up her body with soothing open-mouth kisses. It was the most tender she felt the sorceress be to her since the night at Mystacor and Castaspella felt herself lean yearningly into the kiss as they met in a searing connection of mouths. 

They continued like this for a few long moments, just pressing into the other as they spoke with actions as opposed to words. When Shadow Weaver pulled away, taking an unholy amount of pride in watching Castaspella struggle to catch her breath, it was predictably to tease the sorceress, “Feeling better?” 

With a final exhale that sounded more like an annoyed huff, Castaspella retorted, “You could have warned me- AH!” 

Shadow Weaver, insolent to the end, leaned down and nipped Castaspella’s marked nipple mid-sentence, “That’s boring, Dearest. How would I hear those beautiful cries?” 

“Ugh! Stop ta-unh!-talking. And stop that!” Castaspella flushed harder, trying piteously to push Shadow Weaver away from her abused breast and only succeeding in having her wrist snatched up. 

She pressed firmly against Castaspella’s form, leaning her lips into her ear, “Is that any way to thank someone?” She felt another useless bit of struggling, feeling that the woman’s heart wasn’t in it and likely just putting on a show of rebellion. 

“Thanking you? Hah! Don’t you think you should be thanking me?” Castaspella retorted.

“For the meal? But of course. Where _are_ my manners,” Shadow Weaver sarcastically chuckled, leaning in to nibble at Castaspella’s neck before dropping her voice into the lowest and most seductive timbre she could manage, **“Thank you for dinner.”**

The resounding sound of aroused choking was worth the annoyance of not receiving a compliment.

With a groan of gay panic, Castaspella reached up to attempt untying the cloth from her face, eliciting a sudden rise of alarm in Shadow Weaver and bringing her hands up to pull her hand from her face, “Wha-hey!” Castaspella complained. 

“Not yet,” Shadow Weaver insisted, quickly clearing her throat at the unintentional tone of pleading that escaped. “Keep it on a moment longer.” She could see Castaspella’s lips downturn into a pout but thankfully she relented and kept her hands from the scarf. Still, she wasn’t going to go along with this without some recompense. 

In the midst of Shadow Weaver planning her next move, Castaspella preemptively leaned forward in the direction she felt heat and - in a bold move - made to lick a stripe up along where she hoped was Shadow Weaver’s neck. The skin felt odd, mis-matched and a little smoother than the rest but it encouraged her to continue up it’s length and she found herself spurred on by the low grunt of surprise that vibrated through Shadow Weaver’s throat. 

“What has... gotten into you?” 

Castaspella didn’t hesitate, feeling the heated recklessness that she mistook for courage, “You,” She growled, finally reaching the end of the impromptu scar trail and giving the connecting skin of Shadow Weaver’s ear a playful bite. She could feel Shadow Weaver shudder beneath her and was learning quickly little facts about the woman that was shrouded in mystery. 

Before she could continue her exploratory venture, Castaspella felt the air knocked out of her as she was pushed against the soft cushion of the chair. Her heart thudded against her chest fearfully as she felt a hand at her neck but no threat of her airway being constricted. Instead, with one of her wrists pinned to the side of her head Castaspella brought her other free hand up to force it through Shadow Weaver’s hair in an attempt to show she was unafraid. 

It was a stalemate, both holding the other hostage in a sexually charged stand-still as Shadow Weaver snarled in Castaspella’s face - the other baring her teeth back. 

“You’ve gotten bold,” Shadow Weaver breathed against her, not at all disappointed in the turnabout.

“I’ve always been bold,” Castaspella retorted, fighting against the urge to surge forward and claim the lips she knew were scant millimeters away from her own.

“That’s become apparent to me. How very disappointing,” Shadow Weaver drawled, finally getting an idea on what to do. It would be new between the both of them and… risky, if she didn’t play the moment just right, but something felt comforting about testing boundaries with the sorceress and she had a gut-feeling that Castaspella was much more than she let on. 

Their experience tonight was proof of that. 

Keeping her hand pressed to her neck, careful not to apply pressure just yet, Shadow Weaver leaned in so that their lips were brushing but not quite meeting, “You were doing so well. So obedient… what do you think I should do with you, I wonder?” Castaspella felt white-hot anger pierce her soul and she clenched her fist in Shadow Weaver’s hair, eliciting a groan at the pleasure-pain that seared down the dark sorceress’ back. She smiled sardonically against Castaspella, _“I’ve got it.”_

And slowly, eyeing the way Castaspella began to gasp, closed her hand around the sides of her neck. Her trachea was left untouched - dangerous territory - and she focused on only pinching the nerves oh-so-slowly and watching the woman beneath her struggle. 

She waited, watching as Castaspella gave calm but controlled gasps just before releasing to allow her air. She could feel the slackening of her grip upon her hair and knew she chosen the right direction for them to go, “That’s right, just… let go,” She soothed, rubbing a thumb up and down the skin of Castaspella’s neck before feeling the tension release completely. 

_Checkmate, my dear…_

She had a reward in mind, briefly taking the hand from Castaspella’s neck to bring both wrists up and over her head. Firmly, she would hold them both in a single hand and lean forward to drink in the slowly controlled gulps of air. The meeting of her mouth to Castaspella’s was met with eager abandon and Shadow Weaver moaned appreciatively before parting just enough to speak the rules of their little game, “Keep these,” She tightened her hold over the wrists pointedly. “-right here. Do not move them or you won’t get your reward.” One more kiss, just to keep her yearning, “Do you understand?” 

There was a pause, hesitance that Shadow Weaver could see was a struggle to play along before she saw Castaspella lick her lips and bravely continue, “Okay…”

It was a start, but Shadow Weaver wasn’t going to accept anything but the best - the reward in mind more than worth the effort. She leaned in suddenly, giving a sharp nip against her jawline and eliciting a watery groan of arousal and surprise, “Answer with ‘Yes, Shadow Weaver.’”

“Y-Yes, Shadow… Weaver,” She could feel the difficulty of saying these words and resolved to operate tit-for-tat, knowing intimately how effective a reward-system was. 

“That’s my good girl,” She whispered, peppering kisses up Castaspella’s jawline and toward her ear, “Good girls get prizes… don’t they?” She tested her once more, bringing a hand up to gently hold Castaspella’s jaw as she awaited the answer - painfully turned on. 

“Yes, Shadow Weaver,” Castaspella repeated, struggling with the uncertainty of this uncharted territory with a war criminal and hoping this wasn’t the day she died a fool. A horny fool, but a fool all the same!

“You’re a quick study. Intelligent,” Shadow Weaver cooed in her ear, letting her moving lips play at the shell. The hand under Castaspella’s jaw moved down once more, tracing over the skin of her neck and holding it as before like the sorceress was precious glass. “You’re talented… beautiful…and-” 

Castaspella felt the hand tighten, hips bucking upwards against Shadow Weaver’s as the words sent shocks right down to her belly and she whimpered against the lack of oxygen, “-powerful… and beneath me, you giving me that power… You have no idea what that does to me, do you?” 

Clearly, Castaspella realized she hadn’t because the sheer depravity she was feeling was certain to get her incarcerated somewhere. 

She tried to choke out the response, air precious but a tradable commodity, “Y… Yes, Sh… Shadow Weav… er.” 

By the moons, Shadow Weaver was losing her sense of self-control, utterly enraptured by how behaved Castaspella could be when she was being given what she wanted. She released her neck again, ravenously taking her lips to make her struggle to breathe in a different way. 

Mercifully, she would give the sorceress seconds to catch her breath as she outpoured praise between hot, needy kisses, “Stars, you… you really do, don’t… you?” She groaned, moving her hand from the tantalizing column of her neck to the collarbones and then reverently palming her breast as she traded kisses. “My good girl… the best girl,” She growled against her lips before giving her nipple a cruel little pinch and swallowing a painful cry into her throat. Her voice rumbled with power, the whispers of dark magic in the air. **“Give me more,”** She demanded, practically devouring the oxygen from the sorceress as if it were magic.

Then, suddenly, feeling ice down her spine, Castaspella brokenly gasped, _“M-Micah, Micah, Micah-!”_

As if a bucket of water was thrown over them, Shadow Weaver was up and off - panting and terrified without really knowing why - and suddenly she was pulling the cloth away from Castaspella’s face and using it to cover her own. Her libido was doused immediately, but she didn’t care, struggling to ascertain what went wrong through the heady disorientation, “Are you hurt?!” 

It took Castaspella a moment to adjust to the dim-light of the spell and room from the previous darkness but she was able to only see the silhouetted form of Shadow Weaver over her and seeing that her face was partially obscured. Realizing that a question was asked, Castaspella then belatedly shook her head but responded in a panic, “I-I wasn’t… _wasn’t_ sure if you were still there or… if you’d lost control or something, so I-” She brought her hands down from above, chest heaving as she shamefully covered her face and admitted in a rush, “I’msorry,Ipanicked.”

Staring at the naked woman below her as she digested the fact that she _wasn’t hurt_ Shadow Weaver closed her eyes and released a rather loud sigh of relief. When she opened her eyes, it was to firmly spit with annoyance, “Cease that pitiable display.”

Castaspella brought her hands down, face flushed with hot, angry tears visible in her eyes and immediately Shadow Weaver was beset with regret for her words. With a groan, Shadow Weaver leaned over and picked up her mask - unable to communicate with the scarf over her face in such a crude manner. 

Ignoring the glistening of tears for a moment, she turned in just such a way to fasten the mask before turning back to Castaspella and holding out the cloth to her, “Take this.” 

Confused and hurt, Castaspella felt spurned but accepted the cloth anyway. The moment it was in her hands, Shadow Weaver was easing her up and out of the chair before plopping herself back down in it. Then, just as Castaspella believed Shadow Weaver only wanted her gone, two hands were brought up and held together at the wrist. She stared, now more deeply confused than ever, before Shadow Weaver spoke, “Go ahead. Tie it around my wrists. I won’t hurt you.” 

And the task felt more daunting than it sounded, a sense of power washing over Castaspella that had her swallow down her own fear of the unknown. Tentatively, she brought the cloth toward the presented wrists and began to wrap them up, settling on a rather firm but painless tie that made the woman in the seat comically appear as an arousing present. 

Shadow Weaver, amused as she appraised the odd bow, just gave a scoff of laughter, “How garish, but… very ‘you.’” And then looked up with that impassive mask before settling her wrists into her lap. She wasn’t afraid of what she intended to offer next, but… anxious. Worried, even? The amount of trust she was exhibiting to make amends without saying the words of apology was daring even for her, but Shadow Weaver didn’t deal in empty promises and useless words.

Only action would dictate the truth of defining one’s character. 

“I… want you to do whatever you desire with me. I am without a weapon, with magic and… will not stop you, should you decide a course of action in recompense for my error in judgement.” She fought against the urge to swallow nervously, a visible evidence of weakness and awaited Castaspella’s choice.

A choice that, frankly, had the sorceress questioning whether she was awake at all with how surreal this scene was. “I-what? Is that… supposed to be an apology?” She questioned as she struggled for some ballast to reality. With a shake of her head, Castaspella resolved to do this her way and reached for the tied knot now that she knew the context of what Shadow Weaver was offering. “I’m not going to assault you, I-... You didn’t-”

But before she could reach for the wrists, Shadow Weaver clarified in that knowing tone that annoyed and infuriated Castaspella so much, “I’m not offering to be taken advantage of, you simpleton. I’m-” She stopped, frustrated that she had to spell it out. “What’s difficult about this? If you… desire to take my mask off-”

Suddenly, Castaspella leaned back, the weight of the offer nearly knocking her over as she stared in shock at the impassive mask. The manner in which Shadow Weaver had even insulted her was ignored in place of hearing just how uncomfortable she was with her own offer. 

The temptation was real.  
To see Shadow Weaver’s face… No… Light Spinner’s face was the thing of dreams and mysteries. 

Her heart pounded in her chest, the hand near the knot hesitantly moving away to reach slowly toward the mask.

In spite of herself, Shadow Weaver could feel her own heart painfully beat in her chest, pride and shame at war with each other as she wondered just how soft she’d become to allow anyone to bring her so low.

Just as she felt Castaspella pressed her fingertips into the edge, ready to lift it away, the sudden tension would be replaced with a deep sigh in front of her and a sudden weight against her shoulder. Speechless, Shadow Weaver realized that Castaspella had laid her head against her, burying her face in the robe. 

She felt Castaspella move her head in the negative, her speech muffled, “I can’t do it.” 

Shadow Weaver felt the release of tension sharply and allowed her head to fall back against cushions, “... thank you.” 

“It’s not that I don’t want to!” Castaspella cried, lifting her head and knowing Shadow Weaver was smiling beneath the mask. 

“Take the gratitude, Casta,” Shadow Weaver droned, feeling the woman give a huff before she felt that weight against her shoulder again. A moment later, just sitting silently together, she felt arms come around her neck and the feel of lips against the skin. 

“Thank you.” 

“Don’t mention it. Ever.”

…  
..  
.

By the time they’d untangled themselves from the other, the storm had long since passed - the dawn’s light peeking through the windows. It was late in the morning when the doors opened to reveal a familiar winged matriarch, her expression stern and resolved as she usually adopted when dealing with Shadow Weaver. 

Only to be greeted with a sight of two sorceresses instead of one in the room. 

One sleeping silently in a chair with her head craned in such a way to confirm that she indeed was sleeping… and a fully dressed but snoring Head Sorceress dead asleep on the bed that was shoved in the corner of the room. 

Back and forth Angella looked between the two sleeping bodies before turning around and hissing hushedly at the guards outside. 

“What _happened?!_ ”

**Author's Note:**

> ( ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°)


End file.
